


Sailing Into the Void

by stellardrift



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, M/M, Mild Language, One Shot, Pining, Science Fiction, Werewolves in Space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellardrift/pseuds/stellardrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were given an insurmountable task. After nine years, the crew of the Morning Star is running low on supplies and morale. With their mission more important to their survival than ever, an unexpected discovery is made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sailing Into the Void

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sander from ff.net for beta reading this for me! In this fic, I assumed Boyd to be his last name based on a twitter exchange between Jeff Davis and a fan. & they are still werewolves.

**The Morning Star: Year Nine**

Stiles felt his hand shake on the dial. He dropped it to his side and shook it out. It'd been months since their tiny ship had come into the orbital range of the binary star system Sigmus Xi. They'd been drifting through deep space for some time now, not wanting to use up the last of their propulsion fuel reserves. When he had questioned him, Dr. D (as Stiles called him), had admitted to Stiles that it was possible to reroute the power from the fusion reactor that was powering the shield to the propulsion engine.

"In theory, it would work." Dr. D had said. He hadn't sounded very confident and his tired eyes had been looking past Stiles, into the empty wall behind him. Dr. D had given up a few years before. It was hard to live inside the spaceship, to be away from the freedom of the woods and the calming pull of the moon. Being away, they all felt it. The feeling of a slow drain as their essence slowly drifted away, probably back to Vesta, into the core of their home world, where it belonged. Or so they said.

So, Stiles hadn't pushed it. He was on the brink himself. He spent more time in his bunk with his knees against his chest than he did monitoring the reactor. It helped a little with the pain in the pit of his stomach. Sometimes he wondered why they kept going or why they had even left. Maybe it would have been better to turn the ship around, to die with the rest of their people. Maybe sometimes he still resented the Captain for that, just a little.

Unlike most of the others, he had stopped believing long ago. He'd never been very religious and he certainly was a realist. But now, Stiles was proven wrong. Ever since the scanners picked up the object within their range, the mood on the ship had shifted drastically.

"It's beautiful. Isn't it?" he heard Ensign Reyes whisper behind him. He turned to look but he saw that she wasn't speaking to him at all. Her face tilted up, a look of eager adoration plastered on it as she met the eyes of Lieutenant Boyd. He returned the look and gently touched her shoulders.

"Yes. Yes, it is." he said.

Stiles quickly looked back down at the controls and tiny screen displaying their stats. He didn't want to be involved. He didn't want to know. Regs prohibited relationships between crew members and apparently, they were all still strictly following regs. He laughed bitterly. Now everyone was probably looking at him. God, he needed to get a fucking grip. Try to get over it, life was short and all that.

The rift wasn't exactly as Stiles had imagined it. It was dark, for one thing, big and dark and dense against the glittering backdrop of a billion distant stars. He'd imagined something brighter, glowing and electric. But then, his mother always had accused him of spending too much time in front of the halo-projector. He pushed the memory down. Sure, it wasn't as painful as it had been, not now, anyways, that didn't mean he wanted to dwell on it.

"Chief, are the anti-gravity shields in place? Are we ready for approach?" Stiles looked up into the glowering eyes of Derek, no, no, no, the Captain, boring into him.

They had been lucky in that they had the first and only ship capable of inter-dimensional travel, theoretically, of course. No one had ever actually seen a rift, let alone been through one. They only saw the shadows of them, through their little telescopes, the way light bent around them in the far off cosmos. The proof of their existence lay in half a century of data collecting and multitudes of calculations.

There had been funding in the end, once the importance of that data was realized. Those in power had seen what was happening and had rightly feared the worst. They knew that there was nowhere in the galaxy that they could hide long enough and maybe even nowhere in the universe. Even if they could, no were had ever survived an extended stay away from Vesta. Something about the atmosphere, the solar radiation, they couldn't quite replicate aboard their ships. Some said it was spiritual, that their spirits could bear to be separated from the source of their existence. It was superstitious nonsense as far as Stiles was concerned.

So, they spent enough money to feed half of Pitatus for a year. They'd had this tiny research vessel built, outfitted it with the all the latest and best technologies, and the most powerful FDL drives that existed. They recruited the brightest scientists to board it and assigned a special forces military unit to fly it. But it was too little, too late. And here they were: _the lucky ones_. Right.

"Yes, sir. Phasers set to full blast, warp drive charging." The Captain rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly in annoyance.

"Stilinski, this is—just for once, never mind." His weary eyes were dim, defeated. It wasn't far from his usual demeanor, since... Still, it pained Stiles to see him that way. Especially after memorizing the lines on the Captain's face that creased when he smiled. Just for Stiles, he'd said.

"Captain?" Stiles asked but the Captain looked away.

"Officer McCall, any new communications?"

"No, sir. Nothing." As if there'd be new communications. There wasn't anyone out there, anyone they wanted to find them, at least. No, they all knew that they were alone now. Completely. That didn't stop McCall from sitting at his post, headphones on and dutifully checking channel after channel.

Not that Stiles could talk. No. He carried out his duty to his Captain, to the ship, to his planet. He signed on to serve and even if his contract had ended years ago, he didn't care. He made his reports, his calculations. He repaired the reactor when something corroded or came loose. He did all this, despite the fact that he counted on never using it. What else would he do?

"Lieutenant, have you set the coordinates?"

"Captain, coordinates set, targeting the center of the mass as you specified." Lt. Boyd said.

"Private Lahey, accelerate ship."

"Yes, sir."

Stiles leaned forward in his seat to watch their progress on the screen. They were using the last of their fuel reserves to propel towards the rift. If the coordinates were even close the gravity should suck them in, and shoot them out to the other side of the universe or a different universe or something. Or something. The force could tear their ship apart before they even made it through, leaving the cabin depressurized and void of air.

Stiles didn't know which would be worse, being cooked alive by the radiation or slowly suffocating . . . . Okay he knew which one was worse. Yeah. Stiles didn't really want to dwell on that too much. He thought about going back to his bunk and crying or jerking off or both one last time. He wished that things were different; he shouldn't have given in so easily. He wished . . . The Captain's voice interrupted his thoughts of self pity.

"How long do we have?"

"Given our trajectory and velocity it will be about two hours until we are within the gravitational field of the rift. After that, it will be faster. Really fast. Minutes until we make contact." Dr. Martin said as she stared at the screen, shoulders tense.

"Even with the shields at full power?"

"Yes, even with all of the power of a dying star. The shields will only protect us from being crushed while we travel through it." It was the first time Dr. D spoke in six months.

"Thank you, Dr. Mahealani, Dr. Martin. You may all take leave until 800 hours." The ragged crew members needed no further urging. Stiles stood up to leave with them.

"Not you, Chief." Stiles turned around. The Captain's expression was unreadable. "I need you to look over these readings for me."

"What readings?" Stiles narrowed his eyes as the cabin quickly emptied out. "I've already analyzed the most current in my latest bi-daily report and if you've read them you'd know that the working cond—"

"Stiles!" The Captain had stepped much closer and was looking at him with raised eyebrows and an unmistakable expression of exasperation. "There are no readings, ok?"

"Oh. Then, what?" His heart skipped a beat.

"Stiles." The Captain reached his hand out, letting it graze over the top of Stiles' hand.

"Oh. I thought—" Stiles tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He could hear now that Derek's heart was beating more rapidly than he'd heard it in months.

"What?" Derek gripped his hand suddenly.

"But you said-" Stiles looked into Derek's eyes, searching for something, a hint, anything. To think once he'd actually believed he could see into Derek's soul. That he knew him. Now, he wasn't sure what he saw.

"Does that really matter now?" Oh, how many nights Stiles had laid awake, thinking and re-thinking, searching his memories for a clue, praying to the gods and begging for something, just some little thing.

"I guess not." Even as the pain had festered like a rotten wound, and the beast within begged to be set free and fight, he'd laid quietly, wanting.

"Look, I know what I said. . ." Derek paused, closed his eyes and reopened them. "I'm sorry."

"I know." Stiles breathed back. He'd already imagined this conversation a million times. He knew what to say. He would to be perfect this time, get it right.

"You don't have to—"

"No, I mean it. I understand." Stiles moved in closer and he felt the heat radiating off of Derek's body and he could smell his familiar and intoxicating scent, rich, earthy musk.

"Stiles." Derek pulled him in. Their lips met briefly before the electric euphoria rushed to Stiles' head. He tried to stand up but resolves for leaning against Derek instead.

"Have you eaten today?" Derek growled.

Stiles laughed. "What would be the point?" It comes out more bitter than it had sounded in his head. But really, it was the truth.

"I'll get you something." Derek started to move away.

"No!" Stiles knew he sounded desperate but for the first time, he couldn't bring himself to care. Not this time. "Please. Please, just stay. I'll eat tomorrow, when we're through the rift."

"Stiles, you know—"

"Yes, I know. Look, I know why you're doing this. I get it. Just one last time. Derek, please. I don't want to die alone, either." He felt Derek's body stiffen under him.

"It's not… is that what this is to you?"

"Is that what this is to me? You're the one who ended this. You said—"

"Stop. I know what I said. I knew you would never forgive me." Derek brushed him away walked across the room, in front the screen displaying the rift.

"Forgiving and forgetting are two different things." Stiles paused. "I still want you. I still ... love you."

"Stiles, you don't have to say that." Derek's voice softened.

"It's true." Stiles crossed the room quickly and before Derek could reply, kissed him again. But this time he reached for the back of Derek's head and he held on, kissing him deeper, exploring Derek's mouth with his tongue, hesitant at first and then it's just like he remembers, Derek holding him, pressing him against the center control panel, taking him in, taking everything.

Stiles knew what the rest of the crew whispered about behind closed doors, where they thought he couldn't overhear, where the Captain wouldn't overhear. Why the Captain had called them in to make the ship ready for launch, suddenly, two weeks ahead of schedule. Why they were suddenly leaving the planet when it started. It was an odd coincidence, as if the Captain had known somehow. He wouldn't let them stop the ship or turn around. He merely ordered the ship's acceleration, never even looked back as the Hunters of Apollo descended onto Vesta, tearing their home world apart. Of course no one dared to ask him. Not even Stiles was that stupid.

It didn't mean a thought didn't slip in here or there. Or that he couldn't imagine Derek doing such a thing, choosing his pack, his family over his honor. Because, well, he could imagine it and deep down, he knew that it was true and that that's what happened. So they'd ran away as their planet burned behind them. The dust clouds had filled the atmosphere so thickly that only a swirling mass of grey could be seen off the rear viewing deck.

They'd ran. The only real problem was that they'd nowhere left to go. So they chased down a tired dream and now here they were, desperately teetering on the edge of the universe preparing to sail into the void.


End file.
